Who We Are
by bravevulnerability
Summary: "Do we have time for me to help you get dressed?" he murmurs, lips glancing the curve of her bare shoulder. Kate shifts in the circle of his arms, rotating to face him, to cup his cheeks in her hands like she had only moments before in his office. "We have time." Insert for 7x23, Hollander's Woods.


_"Now, I'm gonna go and get dressed so I can be very proud tonight of who you are."_

Her fingertips leave soft trails of warmth along the freshly shaven skin of his jaw as they make their descent from his face, the comforting scent of her cherry blossom body lotion lingering in the air where she stood soothing the tight knot settled deep in the middle of his sternum, coaxing it to loosen.

Castle rises from the seat in his office, catches a glimpse of her through the cracks and crevices of the bookshelves separating them, the cream colored silk of her robe dancing with the golden lamplight illuminating their bedroom. He can see the drape of enticing red lace atop the comforter of their bed, watches the creamy silk of Kate's robe slip from her shoulders, forming a puddle in the armchair near the bed as she reaches for the hem of her camisole. Rick steps inside the bedroom then, encompasses her waist in his palms before she can strip the thin shirt from her body.

Kate pauses in question, her fingers falling away to dust over the knuckles curved at her hipbones. He knows they only have an hour left to get ready before they have to go, that Kate always prefers to set aside enough time to prepare for events like these without rushing, but a cord of tension lines her spine, clutches her shoulders, the same kind that constricts his lungs and throbs in time with his pulse.

The same kind he felt the moment she threw herself into his arms the second he emerged from the barn hours earlier.

Rick steals his fingers beneath the hem of her undershirt, skims the plane of her stomach, the taut muscles that contract beneath the graze of his touch. Her palms still cover the backs of his hands, following the languid trek of his stroking fingertips before they lift from his altogether, snag in the edges of her shirt and draw it up the length of her abdomen until he can steal it from her unsteady fingers, peel it from her skin and let it join the robe.

Her naked back is warm against his chest, the heat of her welcoming as it penetrates the thin material of his dress shirt, and he spares a moment to lace his arms around her waist, to hold her secure and safe against him, to savor the breath of contentment. A moment of peace found in an otherwise dark day.

"Do we have time for me to help you get dressed?" he murmurs, lips glancing the curve of her bare shoulder.

His wife's head turns towards him, the slash of her cheekbone colliding with the tip of his nose. The corner of her mouth tugs upwards and he cranes forward, just enough to smear a kiss to the gentle hint of a smile.

Kate shifts in the circle of his arms, rotating to face him, to cup his cheeks in her hands like she had only moments before in his office, her gaze soft and adoring, almost completely concealing the slit of terror hiding amidst the jaded hues of her eyes, the flicker of need.

"We have time," she whispers, gliding her fingers up to curl around his ears, dragging his mouth down to meet hers, fusing their lips, hard and reaffirming.

Her chest crushes against his when she surges up on her toes for more, lips parting on a sigh that invites his tongue to slip inside the welcoming cove of her mouth, to stroke and suck and draw that familiar, low moan from deep within her throat. Castle's hands caress the bare skin of her back, the arching ladder of her spine, mapping the well-traveled contours of muscles and shifting ridges of bones as she rocks into him, the cradle of her hips slotting into place with his, eliciting a growl he can never manage to bite back.

His fingers traipse down the path of her spine to hook in the waistband of the simple pair of black cotton shorts she often wears around the loft at night in lieu of appropriate pajama bottoms. Her hips shimmy in assistance when he tugs the material down the flares of her hipbones, the muscles of her thighs, until the fabric is slipping down the lithe paths of her legs, pooling around her tiptoes.

The matching pair of panties follow while her dexterous fingers take apart the buttons of his shirt, fanning out over his pectorals once the white button down is split open. His breath catches at the contact and under normal circumstances, she would grin at the stuttering gasp her touch so easily evokes, tease him with the smirk of her mouth and the flicker of pride amidst the arousal in her gaze, but not tonight.

Kate uses the edges of the dress shirt to tug him backwards with her, nudging him onto their bed until he's settling against the headboard and she's crawling into his lap, making quick work of his black dress pants next, the navy pair of boxers he knows have always been her favorites. Her hair slips free from the loose bun at her nape once she finally positions herself above him, the silk strands drifting forward to graze his cheeks as her forehead dips to collide with his in a kiss.

His hands flex at her waist, lock around her hips as she grasps him firmly in her palm before she sinks down, enveloping him in heat that provides him with both the satisfaction of comfort and induces the craving for more.

But Kate remains still above him even after the space between them is wholly eradicated, her eyes closed and her lips pursed, as if… as if she's trying to hold it together, hold back tears.

"Beckett?" he murmurs, retracting one of his hands from the base of her spine, lifting it between them to brush the pad of his thumb along the papery thin skin beneath her eye. "Hey, talk to me."

"I nearly got you killed," she rasps, her breath ragged, spilling hot and wet across his lips. "I'm supposed to have your back, but you were - you were alone, nearly died in that damn barn-"

Rick curves his palm at her nape, holds her still while he catches the last of his breath, drags her closer until the bare front of her body is sealed so completely with his. "Kate, no. No, you didn't," he argues, quiet but fierce, channeling the confidence that had radiated from her body in the office when she told him how proud she was, when she had reminded him how lucky he is, how grateful he should be. "You had my back the entire time, you're the reason I made it out of there alive."

A strangled noise of grief buffered with relief leaves her lips, stains his shoulder.

"You were my partner out there, Kate," he murmurs, trailing his fingers down the trail of her vertebrae, caressing each knob of her spine with his thumb. "Like always," he adds, smearing a quick kiss to the first piece of her he can reach, feeling her shudder at the touch to the sensitive skin behind her ear.

Her arms fold around his neck, her cheek pressing to his along with the slam of her heart against her ribs, straining forward to beat against his as well. This isn't the first time they've dealt with the after effects of a near death experience in the bedroom, reaffirmed life and love in the dance of bodies and seal of skins, but tonight is different. Tonight is slow, unhurried despite their shrinking timeframe. Tonight he cradles the bow of her body in the cove of his until her fingers comb through his hair and her head turns, her mouth seeking his and her body coming alive beneath his hands once more.

He rolls his hips up to meet hers, that first thrust of movement plunging him deeper inside and igniting familiar flickers of heat ready to form flames. He swallows the sharp gasp that races past her lips, catches it between his teeth and her bottom lip and splays his hand low at her back, guides the undulating dance of her lower body into perfect rhythm with his.

Her teeth pierce the thick cord of muscle at his neck, leaving a mark on the uninjured side of his throat, as the rise and fall of her body into his lap increases in speed, in determination, her hips circling and grinding with force, her inner walls clutching and clamping around him hard enough to have recognizable white spots dotting his vision.

Rick shifts on the mattress, gives her only half a second to realize what he's about to do before he flips them over, pins her to the bedding with his body above hers and still moving.

She moans, long and breathless, a sound he's heard many times before but still reacts to it as if it's the first time, with vigor and need to hear the erotic noise again. Kate winds her arms around his torso, slides her hands beneath the fabric of the dress shirt still clinging to his shoulders, to his wrists by the cufflinks, fitting her fingers to score between the spaces of his ribcage.

"Close," she gasps out, twining her legs at his thighs, rocking her hips up to collide with his in effortless harmony, but Castle doesn't hasten the clash of their hips, the glide of his body over hers. He continues the slow, almost painful rhythm they've set, easing nearly all the way out of her before driving back in, submerging himself deep in the tight, hot embrace of her body.

Her spine arcs off the mattress each time, higher with every thrust, already trembling with the beginnings of the release he can feel rippling from the base of his spine, those reoccurring white spots accumulating in the corners of his eyes now, ready to blanket him in white-hot sensation.

Rick lowers his mouth to the peak of her breast, teases the hard tip of her nipple with a harsh nip of his teeth, evoking a high pitched mewl that Kate buries in his pillow, before soothing the spot with the swirl and stroke of his tongue. Her hands rip from his shirt to bridge at the base of his skull, fingers fisting in his hair to draw him up, up to capture his mouth with hers, to muffle the quiet sob of the orgasm that unravels through her body, coaxes him over the blissful edge with her.

He thrusts once, twice more, sharp and shallow, before he's spilling inside her, his breath erratic and broken against her lips as he succumbs to the brilliance behind his eyes, sweeping through his every nerve ending.

Kate is grinning, the smile a lazy and lovely thing stretching across her lips when he lifts his head to stare down at her, and if he didn't have a speech to give tonight, he would ask them to simply ship his award to him in favor of staying in with his wife, to remain wrapped in the comfort of her body and their bed.

Her heel grazes at his flank, guiding him back into awareness and he sighs, drops his lips to her forehead while her fingers comb through the patches of hair he knows are likely demolished and disheveled from the work of her hands.

"I should let you help me get ready more often," she murmurs, smoothing her hands over the rumpled collar of his shirt.

She's teasing him, sated and playful beneath him, and he knows it's his cue to smirk, to reply with some clever remark that will make her roll her eyes, continue on into their well-practiced banter, but he dips his nose to her cheek instead, nudges the slash of bone as his lips brush the line of her jaw.

Kate's chest expands beneath his, a sigh of contentment that spreads from her sternum through his own.

"Dad, Kate, are you guys almost ready?" Alexis calls from the living room, effectively shattering the serenity of the moment, but it's a well-needed reminder and Castle pushes up on his elbows, smears one last kiss to Kate's mouth before easing off of her.

"We will be," he calls back, stepping into his boxers while Kate stretches in the bed just before she saunters past him, heading for the bathroom, still so enticingly nude and not helping his own process of dressing. At all.

"Don't you have a speech to practice?" she asks, her brow curved as she slips into a lace thong, a matching red bra, and would it really be such a big deal if he just skipped this thing altogether and- "Castle."

He huffs and snags his slacks from the floor. "Fine, I'll practice the speech, but let me know if you need anymore help."

He catches her eyes roll in the bathroom mirror as she powers on the curling iron and opens up her makeup bag, but her lips curl at the edges and he would bet she's no longer in any form of hurry to attend this awards ceremony either. But Castle allows her to get ready in peace, goes over each memorized line of his speech on paper before reciting it alone in his office by memory, and returns only when Alexis gives a ten minute warning and he requires some assistance with the complicated bowtie still dangling from his neck.

"Hey Kate, would you mind…" His sentence trails the moment she steps out of the bathroom, her hair falling in perfectly tousled curls around her face, her makeup light but precise, but it's the dress, the red lace of the form fitting dress that paints over her figure like a second skin that steals his voice. "Wow."

"Like it?" she grins, twisting her hips while her lips twist into a shy smile, but her eyes shine with mischief, sparkling and clever, because of course she knows he likes it. _More_ than likes it.

"Gorgeous," he affirms, striding towards her to converge in the adjoining bathroom's doorway and immediately framing the juts of her hipbones in his palms, skimming his hands up the length of her sides, the expanding branches of her ribs.

"Rick," she warns, catching his hands when they skim the undersides of her breasts. "After."

Her hands squeeze his wrists and his palms drop back to her waist while she reaches for the tie at his neck, adjusting the bow, tying it with ease and a soft smile.

"I can't wait to see you up there," she admits, her gaze following the work of her fingers as they straighten the black fabric and span down to smooth over the lapels of his tux. When her eyes lift to his once more, he can see the pride shining bright in her irises, golden and a little breathtaking, because yeah, it still steals his breath to know that he can make Kate Beckett proud.

His arms snake around her waist, his hands coming to rest at the small of her back while hers grip his biceps, her thumbs circling the muscles in a soothing habit she started after those first few nights in his bed. A habit that has become one of the best and only ways to calm him no matter the situation.

"I'm proud of you too," he murmurs, watching the gentle smile on her lips spread wider, and he almost spills his whole speech to her right then, almost professes how much she changed his entire life, how much better she made it, him. But instead, he settles for a single line that didn't make it into the speech but rings just as true as every other word that did. "Proud to be your husband, Kate."


End file.
